


this desert life

by brightblue



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, Spring training fic, kind of, post season one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9661520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightblue/pseuds/brightblue
Summary: “Well, it’s not quite a fishbowl. More like an aquarium.”Ginny, Livan, and Blip spend spring training at Mike's Arizona house. There's a pool. And lots of flirting and near-misses. Eventually, Mike and Ginny have to figure out what's going on between them, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WonderTwinC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WonderTwinC/gifts).



> Yeah, I wrote nearly 8k of fic in one night after having a hard time narrowing all my ideas for the gift exchange. Hopefully this is entertaining, if not totally cohesive. Title is stolen from the Counting Crows album of the same name because I liked it. Enjoy!

 Ginny might just be in love with Mike’s Scottsdale house.

 Mansion. No, not technically a mansion. A house. A really fucking nice house.

 “Well, it’s not quite a fishbowl. More like an aquarium.”

 It’s her only comment as she emerges from Mike’s car, eyes squinting into the afternoon sun even with her Ray Bans on. And it’s true. There’s still a wall of glass windows, framed by a dark wood frame that blends in beautifully with the surrounding landscape. Instead of modern architecture contrasting with the lush greens and blues of the Pacific, the house seems to blend with the muted tones of the mountains in the distance and the cacti and gravel that landscape the property.

 “There’s a Best Western down the road,” Mike warns.

 “This’ll do.” Ginny winks at her captain as she hikes her duffel bag over her left shoulder and follows him into the house.

 

* * *

 

He sets her up in the guest suite situated at the opposite end of the house as the rest of the bedrooms. It gives her easy access to the kitchen and her own palatial bathroom with a giant tub set under a huge skylight.

“Isn’t this where Blip usually stays?” Ginny can’t help but shift awkwardly on her feet as Mike gives her the grand tour. He rubs his trimmed beard, one of his only nervous tells, as he follows her back into her bedroom. He’d clearly had a housekeeper over recently; the rooms smelled like fresh linen, towels neatly stacked in all the bathrooms.

“Well, he _has_ ,” Mike allows. “But this year he’ll be down the hall. When Ev and the kids come to visit, they usually just rent a room for the weekend. He will be going back to San Diego more often anyway, with the kids having school and Evelyn working on the restaurant.  ”

Ginny nods. “Gabe and Marcus _could_ just crash on the floor. Like a sleepover.” She gestures to all the open space surrounding her king bed.

Making a face, Mike gestures for her to exit. “This place isn’t exactly kid friendly.”

“I don’t see why not.” Ginny finds a cow skull resting on an end table. She scoops it up and dances it in front of her face.

Mike laughs. A deep chuckle that gives Ginny a tingle of satisfaction. “Yeah. We’ll see.” He takes the skull from her and tries to put it back in its spot. Turning it side to side, tilting his head a bit, he grumbles when he can’t seem to replicate the perfect angle his interior designer had found.

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Is it time for the pool yet, old man?”

“It’s all yours, rookie. I’m going to get the grill going. Wouldn’t want our special guest to show up without any food to offer him.”

“What _ever_ , Martha Stewart,” Ginny drawls out with a giggle. She turns to trek back to her room to unpack and change into her swimsuit. Mike keeps acting like it was her idea to invite Livan as their fourth roommate for spring training. And, sure, she had maybe planted the seed. But Mike had invited him all on his own. If he wanted to grump about it for the next few weeks, then that was all him.

 

* * *

 

As the sun goes down, the sky begins to glow indigo with fluffy pink clouds. Ginny glides on her back in the warm water of the pool, admiring the view. She hums along to the music Mike has playing on the outdoor speaker system, quiet enough so as to not intrude on the sounds of distant traffic and buzzing insects.

She focuses on Mike’s occasional comments to himself as he fires up the outdoor grill, the clip-clap of his flip flops on the brick patio, the sliding door to the house opening and closing every few minutes. Flipping onto her stomach, she begins a slow crawl across the awkward length of the pool. She checks in with her muscles: the easing tightness in her back after their long car ride, the warmth building in her thighs as she kicks through the water, everything as it should be. As always lately, she tests the range of motion in her shoulder and elbow for any soreness or pain with slight trepidation. But she feels good. Ready. Hopes all the hard work and rehab in the off-season will pay off.

On a whim, she dives underwater in the shallow end of the pool and pops up into a handstand, just like she did as a kid hanging out at the community pool in the summer. She points and flexes her toes before pushing off her hands into a somersault. Emerging from the water, sputtering for air, she laughs.

“A solid 8 from the American judge!” Mike hollers at her as she pushes the wet hair from her face.

Ginny smiles up at him, throwing her arms over her head like a gymnast and bowing. “Dinner done yet?”

“Patience, Baker.” Mike waves grill tongs at her. Ginny appraises the relaxed look he has going on, the athletic shorts and t-shirt and pasty white toes flexing as he checks the steaks. She wonders if he’d lose the shirt if the sun were still up. As it is, he looks comfortable at the grill, domestic, and for a moment it’s easy to pretend he’s not her captain, not a ball player, and she doesn’t have to temper her gaze at the achingly familiar lines of his body and brow furrowed in concentration. They’d spent most of the off-season apart and she’d _missed him_.

Scrunching her hair to release some of the water from her curls, Ginny wades to the edge of the pool, closer to Mike. She pretends not to notice how his eyes linger over her chest as it emerges from the water. She sends a silent thanks to Evelyn for making her buy the black bikini with the underwire, which gives her breasts a nice extra oomph that Mike seems to be appreciating. And if Ginny gives her hair an extra tossle and throws her shoulders back to add to the look, well, she’s never been able to not give things her best effort.

“What are you feeding me tonight, captain?” Okay, so, she really did not mean to drop her voice an octave with the question. It’s just that the twinkle in Mike’s eye as he unabashedly checks her out goes straight to her core and the six hours with him in the car driving to Arizona was torture enough. (Their banter was easy, natural as always, which made it all the more frustrating. She never seems to want their time together to end.)

Silence stretches between them as their eyes meet. Ginny does nothing to cloak her want. He’d kept his careful distance during their off-season. They’d talked, sure, and he’d come to her rehab workouts, but always their time was friendly and focused. Whatever they’d come so close to admitting that night at Boardner’s seemed miles away when topics of conversation lingered on her healing injury and his plans for his potentially last season. He studiously avoided asking her about her (doomed) relationship with Noah just as she pretended she had no idea that he was spending weekends in L.A. with his ex-wife.

“Ginny….”

Shit. She does not expect that. A quick pivot back to their former intimacy while alone in the desert with very few clothes on. Her gaze flits to his lips. Despite the fact that she’s several feet away, half-submerged in a pool, and he’s standing fully clothed at the grill, she knows that he knows exactly what she’s thinking. She feels his breath on her face, a ghost of a memory from months ago.

The jingle of his cell phone interrupts them yet again.

With a groan, Ginny dunks herself.

 

* * *

 

For the next few days, Livan acts as a buffer between them. This is exactly as Ginny planned when she agreed to this potentially disastrous living arrangement.

As a teenager with a goal and a crush, she remembers reading that Mike Lawson was known to host rookie players at his Arizona house during spring training, all the better to mentor them. Back then she’d envisioned being asked to join him at the mansion (there was a lot of marble and gold in her imagination’s version) where of course he’d spend hours dropping chestnuts of wisdom before their talks turned to declarations of love and roses and PG-13 kisses.

So when it finally hit her sometime around Christmas (and the implosion of her relationship with Noah) that spending spring training with her hero and (it was hard to admit) past and current man-of-her-dreams was a possibility, well, her New Year’s resolution took on a very personal and narrowed focus. Stop denying herself. Let herself be happy. “ _What else you got_?”  Her mantra.

She never spoke a word of this to Livan. And she’s continually surprised that Mike invited him to stay in the fourth bedroom of his house. But, as both Ginny and Blip had pointed out, Livan needed the guidance and structure. And if he was willing to let the future hall of fame catcher actually mentor him? Well, it would do nothing but cultivate his talent and endear him to management and fans.

Ginny absolutely does not play up her friendship with the rookie catcher to her preferred battery mate. Sure, Livan is her friend; she enjoys their easy banter and feels a certain camaraderie with him that carries over onto the pitch. But she would’ve been fine just seeing him around Peoria Stadium and not over breakfast each morning. Keeping Livan close and therefore having to police the contentious relationship between current and future star catchers keeps their roles and dynamics transparent though. Mike and Ginny have a special chemistry _on the field_ . Mike’s age and Livan’s presence are a threat to that _on the field_. At practice, Mike has to cultivate relationships with his entire bullpen; he will remain starting catcher. Management is adamant that Livan still needs time to develop and though he and Ginny get along well off the field, their game stats aren’t any better than Livan’s with the other pitchers. Ginny and Livan, though a season in, are still considered rookies. Mike is the captain. These are the things they all know. Roles they respect.

Livan is getting better about accepting Mike’s ribbings and off-handed praise. Ginny lets Mike and Livan fuss over her arm and micromanage her rehab so they didn’t snipe at each other. With some pointed reminders from Ginny, Livan lets Mike take the lead and they all manage to coexist through their first few days of spring training. As Skip coins it, it’s the old goat with his two kids. And, for the first few days, it works.

 

* * *

 

Blip is the first to point it out. Of course. Because together, Blip and Evelyn would make one hell of a crime solving duo.

“So please tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this is weird as hell?”

Ginny looks up from her phone in alarm. She’s laid out on the couch of the common room of Lawson’s house, icing her elbow after her start that afternoon. Blip is at the butcher’s block in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for the stir-fry he promised them all for dinner that night.

“What are you talking about?”

Blip puts down his knife and levels her with a look. He gestures to the house at large. Ginny doesn’t know what he could possibly mean. For a week, they have all coexisted in perfect harmony at Mike’s Arizona aquarium. Beyond the glass doors to the patio, Ginny hears the muffled voices of Livan and Mike on the putting green.

“Lawson and Duarte being golf buddies. The four of us all getting along without any problems, like a freaking sitcom.”

Tossing her phone aside, Ginny pushes herself up on her elbows to regard her friend. “It’s weird that we’re all getting along?”

Blip shakes his head. “A few months ago, Mike was about to drop kick Livan back to his homeland for just smiling at you.”

“Yeah. And that was stupid and irrational,” Ginny frowns. “Mike was just feeling threatened. But he’s in good shape now and Livan is starting to understand that he has a lot to learn from him.”

“Ginny. You know I love you.”

Frowning even deeper, Ginny scrambles to stand. “Blip, what are you even--

“You and Mike have to figure out what the hell you are going to do about this thing between you.”

Ginny’s breath catches in her throat. Her eyes lock on Mike through the window. He’s got his lecture face on, his mouth running at Livan, who rolls his eyes good naturedly.  

Blip sighs, wipes his hands on a kitchen towel, and walks to sit near her on the couch. “Look, I’m not Ev, and I’m not trying to meddle.”

“So don’t,” Ginny breathes the comeback as she scrambles for solid footing. She’s worked, so hard, to put any thoughts of Mike as anything other than her captain and teammate out of her head these past few days, latching onto the team dynamic of it all, that Blip’s comment throws her totally out of whack.

“I’m glad we’re all getting along. It’s great,” Blip rushes to say. “When I first got called up, Mike invited me to stay here during my first spring training. He’d been doing it for years, as you know, and it’s something I give him a lot of credit for-- it helps grow our team. But did you know he hasn’t invited anyone to stay here the last few years? Since he split with Rachel?”

Ginny swallows and avoids meeting her friend’s eyes. “No.”

“Yeah. Not since Rachel.” Blip shrugs. “I’m glad he brought back the tradition. Even if it was a no brainer which rookie he’d choose to stay here.”

When Blip nudges her with his elbow, Ginny can’t help but mimic his infectious grin. “Yeah. He and Duarte…”

“Shut you mouth,” Blip tease. “You know you’re his favorite.” He pauses, countenance growing serious. “You’re his legacy.”

A sudden swell of emotion chokes in Ginny’s throat. “I don’t understand--

“C’mon now, Gin.” Blip’s voice is gentle. Something Ginny’s heard hundreds of times as he’s tried to manage rambunctious twins. He takes a deep breath. “Honestly, I don’t understand it. And I don’t think I approve of it. Not that it matters what I think. But I see the way you look at him. And the way he talks about you…”

“Blip--”

“ _Ginny_ ,” Blip interrupts, “just know that I’m here for you both whatever happens. He’s my best friend and you’re the sister I never had.”

Ginny smiles despite the storm of emotions in her belly. “Yeah. Same. I mean, I have a brother but… He kinda sucks sometimes.”

Blip chuckles. “You guys deserve to be happy. And though there’s a million reasons why it would be _a terrible decision_.” He lets his stare linger. “I’ve got your back. Just. Don’t mess it up. I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”

Shaking her head, Ginny rubs at her face. “Thanks. I think. But with Mike and I….” she struggles for words. “I think you’re way off-base.”

A secret smile on his face, Blip just pats her knee and stands up. “I feel kind of content in the fact that you’re both pretty much dense as Salvi’s wooden bats when it comes to love.”

“Wow. That was a super specific reference.” Ginny laughs, glad for the relief.

“Sanders!” Mike’s voice suddenly booms into the open concept space. “What’s the ETA on dinner? I’m starving!”

Ginny’s face heats up without her permission as she sinks lower into the couch cushions.

 

* * *

 

Ginny’s instinct was right. Mike’s Scottsdale house is her favorite place in the world.

She wakes up each morning ready for the day. Mike makes her an avocado toast just the way she likes and Livan mixes up a killer green smoothie for the road. Blip rides shotgun to the ballpark, somehow finding music that they all agree on, and it becomes a running joke at practice that the crew most likely to bicker and come to blows in the previous season is running like a well-oiled machine.

They practice and play games. Ginny’s arm feels as good as it ever has and she’s not even lying to the trainers. Mike seems to be approaching each game with a newfound spirit, hitting bombs during batting practice and lingering well after the game to sign autographs and take pictures. Livan’s cockiness dials down exactly one notch; there are still many nights he wanders off after practice only to Uber home at a late hour with a groupie or two on his arm, alcohol slurring his words, as Ginny and Blip make fun of him, not missing a beat in their late night round of Mario Kart.

Ginny finds solace each evening floating her body in the pool, watching the sunset paint the sky and mentally preparing herself for the next day’s game. She learns that if she jumps in the water before the sun goes down, Mike will inevitably join her. He’ll fling off his shirt and cannonball into the water just to make her laugh. They’ll awkwardly race each other in the irregular polygon that he calls a pool and Ginny wins every time. And when they trade jokes about the day, Ginny doesn’t try to hide the way her eyes linger over the solid mass of his chest, fingers itching to dig into its flesh. Mike is more careful. He keeps a calculated distance as she splashes and taunts but Ginny can read the dark want in his eyes; she clocks the silent invitation in his body language. How he’s always just _there_. Present. Waiting.

 

* * *

 

“Rachel must’ve loved this place.”

Ginny pulls the fluffy beach towel she’s wrapped in closer to her body. Her gaze tracks the shock of stars in the night sky rather than Mike’s reaction. Blip went to meet up with some old friends for dinner so Ginny and Mike had lost track of time horsing around in the pool, playing a water tennis game the twins had left on their most recent weekend visit. Once the sun had gone down, they’d finally pulled themselves out of the water.

“ _Rachel_ came here only once or twice.” Mike’s volley back is easy, unaffected. He stretches his body out on a chaise lounge. Heat hangs heavy in the air, drying their bodies quickly despite the lack of sun. Ginny struggles to keep her eyes on the constellations rather than the glistening droplets of water on her captain’s skin. They let the silence between them settle. Mike takes a swig from a bottle of beer. “One of the many things she didn’t get about me.”

Ginny rolls onto her side on her chaise so she can face Mike. “It’s beautiful here. I never thought I’d find the desert so pretty but…”

“It’s magical,” Mike finishes. He turns his head to study her. Ginny doesn’t shy away from the intensity of his gaze.

“And the baseball!” Ginny teases, laughing, because she doesn’t think she’s ever had this much fun playing the game she’s loved since she was a kid.

“The baseball!” Mike banters back, eyes twinkling in the moonlight as he toasts the air. Ginny wants this moment to last forever.

They drift into quiet. Though the air is far from chilly, Ginny finds herself shivering, an uncontrollable tremor rolling in waves through her body. Mike’s eyes sweep over her. He says nothing, just lifts to a sit, muscles flexing. Ginny’s breath catches.

“Ginny.”

“See, every time you call me that…” Ginny trails off, biting her lip as she rises to sit as well. She clutches her towel more tightly around her body. Her skin feels damp and clammy, not sexy at all, though the way Mike drinks her in makes her thighs clench. She feels both utterly present in the moment and a thousand miles away, watching her body from a distance as she twists in her chair, leaning closer to this man she has fallen for in every way possible.

“Your name?” His lip quirks dangerously. He turns toward her, their knees grazing as his body begins to lean forward.

Ginny hears her own heart pound. A coyote howls in the distance. The inky sky and miles of desert that surround them make this feel like a world separate from any potential consequences of this action. Ginny can only focus on his lips, the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

The echoing grind of a truck’s brakes somewhere in the distance startles Ginny back to awareness but doesn’t fully break the spell. “Why invite me here?”

“Because you’re my rookie,” Mike answers simply, his own eyes focused on her lips and if she wasn’t so stunned by this turn of events, Ginny would be absolutely losing her shit.

“ _Your_ rookie,” she teases, quirking a smile.

“The best looking one.” He smiles, too. It is brilliant and all for her.

“Uh huh,” she murmurs. Her fingertips graze his knees and their bodies draw ever closer together. “I bet you say that to all the rookies. I saw you and Livan out here earlier…”

“He has quite the putt.” Mike parallels her advance, drawing his own fingers over her kneecap, inching up her thigh. Her skin erupts in goosebumps and their heads are suddenly tilted together, foreheads nearly touching.

There’s a long moment where they just breathe together.

“This is your call to make, Gin.” Mike’s gravelly voice breaks their stalemate. He calls her _Gin_ and it takes every ounce of self control for her to not give into every wonderful possibility of this moment.

She encourages and rejects him in the same breath-- her fingers curl into his beard, seeking the warmth of his skin, as she ducks her face into his neck. She inhales him, salty skin and chlorine and something else that sends a sharp stab of arousal through her body. He responds in kind, nuzzling her back, but holding her at a distance with a hand on her shoulder.

“If we do this….” She gulps, trying to find her voice, “I won’t be a rebound. I can’t be. And I know I’m not--

“Shit, Baker.” Mike rubs his nose down her cheek. Then a hand down her back. She can’t stop shaking. “You’re not… You _could never_ be. You know it’s over between Rachel and me. I was an idiot. Because it was you. All along. I was running from you. I only want you.”

Ginny remains frozen. She tries to savor this moment. “What if I make the wrong call?”

Mike’s fingers inch under the band of her bikini top, soothing and tracing that hidden skin. Ginny wants to fold her body completely into his; she doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anyone so much in her life. Her lips graze his neck, barely tasting, but feeling the reverberations of her touch through his body nevertheless.

“You’re an All-Star, rook, not possible,” he teases, taking his own tastes of her skin. And Ginny is gone. She releases the grip on the towel shrouding her body, surging forward, ready to grab his face and finally, finally press her lips to his when--

“Laaaaawson! _Maaaa-mi_! Are you awake?”

By the time the patio floodlights flip on, Mike and Ginny have found a respectable distance, even if Ginny’s heart continues to race and her hands tremble.

“Fucking Duarte. _Fuck_!” Mike mutters and musses his hair.

Ginny laughs, a weird surge of adrenaline and arousal confusing her body, as she tosses herself back into her chaise.

Livan stumbles out onto the patio, a giant bottle of water in one hand and a white greasy bag in the other. “I brought tacos!”

“Great,” Mike mumbles as he hangs his head in his hands. Though she’s just as frustrated, Ginny can’t find it in herself to rebuke her drunk and lonely friend.

“Hope you brought enough to share, papi!” Ginny hollers back, patting the open space next to her.

 

* * *

 

Ginny is thrilled to get the start against the Cubs in their first match-up of the season (even if it is pre-seaon.)

It goes terribly.

Not as bad as her first outing in the bigs, but terrible by most standards. Sure, she can pass it off as nerves-- she still doesn’t quite trust her pitches and the Cubs are defending their World Series title. No one really faults her the fumble and she’s been solid in her other starts.

“It’s just one game, Baker. Shake it off.” It’s only as they pull up into the driveway of his house that Mike offers the words of encouragement. Ginny just shakes her head. She knows it was more than just _World Series Champs_ that freaked her out. It was _this team almost took him away from me_ . It was _he almost left me for this team. And if he had left we would’ve already at least kissed by now. He would have a ring by now. Less regrets. And yet here he is, still here, still with me, but not with me, and can I break every rule for him? Is it worth it? Of course it’s worth it. He’s the most wonderful man you’ve ever met and he wants you too. And why wait? Oh yeah all those reasons and oh my god I might die I don’t get my hands on those thighs soon…_

Yeah, it was like that. The whole game. With Mike staring at her from some sixty feet away like he could read every thought on her mind.

“Yeah. I _know_.” She snipes and pushes past Duarte to get into the house first, leaving her temporary roommates behind.

 

* * *

 

 ** _Pizza?_ **   Duarte’s text is straight to the point. Ginny agrees, drags herself out of bed and into actual jean shorts and a t-shirt, and meets her teammate by the kitchen bar.

“Anyone else coming?” She has to ask because they’ve been such a unit lately, though the thought of hanging out with Mike makes her stomach knot and, as much as she loves Blip, his concerned brother face is the last thing she needs right now.

“No, mami,” Livan shakes his head and unlocks his car. Ginny climbs into the passenger seat. “It’s just us. Pizza and beers. Day off tomorrow.”

Ginny forgot about that. She grins at the sudden revelation. “Perfect.”

Duarte beams back at her, that gorgeous model grin of his, and cranks up the music as he accelerates down the driveway. Ginny closes her eyes and lets her body move to the beat of the song, never more thankful for an escape.

 

* * *

 

Ginny wakes to the most offensive sunlight she’s ever experienced.

Groaning, she pulls a pillow over her head and tries to curl her body into itself, every movement setting off another wave of pain in her head. Oh god. What has she done. Feeling somewhat comforted by the mumbles and grumbles she releases into her pillow, Ginny allows her brain to backtrack over the events of the night before.

There was a lot of pizza. And beer. Then shots. Tequila? Loud, terrible music. But a dance floor and more shots and the wonderful, blissful feeling of numbness and letting go. She has bits and pieces of a memory of Livan driving them through the desert, of pulling off the road and dancing in the glare of the headlights to whatever random song came on the radio. She remembers Livan making her drink glass upon glass of water and shoving her off toward her bedroom. Alone, thankfully. Ginny shoots her hand out from under the covers to find her phone on the bed next to her, one text showing on her alerts.

**_Last night was fun. No regrets. You needed fun. Text me for breakfast._ **

Ginny smiles, agreeing with the sentiment despite her current hangover. She texts Livan back _Breakfast. One hour._ She slides the phone out of her way and drifts back off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

A little over an hour later, Ginny is ready for an omelette. Livan doesn’t disappoint. Not an omelette, but he makes her a breakfast sandwich that is to die for and Ginny feels ready to take on the world after polishing that off with some coffee and Gatorade.

“Where’s Lawson?” She mumbles through a mouthful of fruit salad when she registers the silence of the kitchen. Livan is lounging on the couch with protein shake in one hand and his iPad in the other. Blip has been filtering in and out of the room, not a single comment on her sorry state, as he packs for his quick getaway back to San Diego.

Blip stops mid-zip of his carry-on. “Moping around the desert, probably. You and Livan were awfully loud when you came back blasted last night. I, for one, did not appreciate the two AM dance-off.”

Ginny makes a face. “He thinks something happened with Livan and me?”

From the couch, the young catcher gives a hoot of approval.

“Shut up, Livan.” Ginny and Blip answer in unison.

“Probably not. But he’s jealous that you spent the night blowing off steam with Mr. Vain over there.” Blip stands and does a quick check of his phone. “Speaking of which, Duarte, you still gonna drive me to the airport since Captain Crankypants is MIA?”

“Yeah, man,” Livan nods, slurping up the last of his shake. “Don’t worry. You can count on me.” His exaggerated swagger as he cleans up from breakfast makes Blip roll his eyes.

“This is exactly why I thought this was a terrible idea.” Blip directs his irritation at Ginny. “Between Lawson and Duarte, we have one ego too many in this house. And then there’s you and Mike, making this whole situation like some high school romance bullshit.”

Ginny shakes her head, every ounce of her body language denouncing her friend’s remarks. She turns on the ball of her foot and pointedly walks away.

“I am going home to my wife and my children where I might get yelled at for breathing the wrong way by any one of them, at any given time, and it will be a million times better than this drama!” Blip is calling after Ginny as she escapes down the hallway to her room. Ginny snorts.

“Say hi to Ev for me!” She doesn’t look back but she doesn’t need to to see Blip’s paternal disapproval.

“Oh Evie will be hearing about _this_ ,” Blip promises. “Let’s go, Duarte. I don’t want to miss my flight!”

 

* * *

 

A few minutes later, the house goes quiet. Still, Ginny glances around the room before she pulls out her phone and opens her text thread to Mike.

_Where you at, old man?_

**_Driving. How was your night?_ **

Rolling her eyes, she wonders how words on a screen could be laced with sarcasm. _Good. Fun. I needed to blow off steam. And I hope you’re not texting and driving._

The reply comes quickly. **_Course not. I pulled over. How is Lucky Livan this fine morning?_ **

_Driving Blip to the airport like you promised you’d do._

**Shit. I forgot.**

_Clearly. What’s your deal?_

**_Just needed to blow off steam._ **

Shaking her head, Ginny bites her lip. _You are infuriating sometimes, you know that? Come home. Let’s go for a hike. You promised to show me the mountains._

**_Omw._ **

 

* * *

 

“Who knew a pile of rocks could be so beautiful?” Ginny stops to snap another photo as they continue to ascend the trail, squatting by a patch of yellow wild flowers. It’s a milder day by Arizona standards so the early afternoon sun feels invigorating rather than withering.

Mike stops with her, feigned annoyance on his face. “C’mon, rookie, we still haven’t made it to the top.” He stretches his quads, then his whole body, lifting his hands skyward. Ginny’s cheeks flame as she watches his muscles ripple underneath his athletic gear. His body is so familiar to her by now, but sometimes she’s hit sideways by just how attracted to him she is. Giving her suddenly dry lips a quick swipe with her tongue, she pushes back to a stand. She swats at Mike’s butt with her water bottle as she walks past him to continue up the trail.

“Were you really that jealous that I hung out with Livan last night?” The question floats up into the cloudless blue sky. As she forges ahead, she doesn’t watch it land. She is only aware of the crunch of her sneakers on the dusty gravel and her puffs of breath, her lungs working a little harder as the elevation increases.

“Of course I was.”

Ginny stops dead on the trail. Apparently not watching her, Mike bumps right into her from behind. “Whoa, careful, Baker.”

Whirling around to face him, Ginny frowns when she realizes she can’t read his expression beneath his sunglasses and that damn beard.

“You were?” She’s surprised at how breathless she sounds. She feels every bead of sweat trickling down her back.

With a shrug, Mike looks away. “I think it’s pretty obvious by now, Ginny. I want to be your guy.”

Her mouth drops open. He says it so casually, like it’s not some giant declaration. She can’t control the stupid expression she knows is on her face. Her brain struggles to process his words, run them through the filter of Current Padres Pitcher Ginny Baker and not The Girl with a Mike Lawson Poster on Her Wall reaction. Either way, though, her heart is stuttering out of control and she has absolutely no words to respond. She thinks a scream of joy would ruin the moment.

Mike, being an ass, smirks at her. “Race you to the top?” Then takes off running up the trail.

“Oh, it’s _on_!” Ginny yells and gives chase, a big smile on her face.

 

* * *

 

Huffing and wiping beads of sweat from her face, Ginny scrambles out to the edge of a cliff as she reaches the trail summit and collapses down on the most comfortable looking rock she can find. A few seconds later Mike joins her, moaning and groaning and clutching at his side. She passes him a bottle of water from her backpack. They pass the next few minutes in silence, catching their breath and hydrating.

“Totally worth it,” Ginny smiles as she scans the endless horizon.

With a cough, Mike wheezes out his agreement.

Ginny looks to him in concern. “I didn’t break you, did I?”

“It’ll take a lot more than that to break me, rookie.” Mike’s cheeks are flushed. His eyes a deep blue-gold (Padres colors she thinks fondly, and how weird is that?)  that cut straight to her core with their intensity. She lets herself linger in the moment, drinking him in. Also, her heart's still racing in her chest and she really think she might explode. She clutches at her mouth as she lets out a guffaw that seems to startle a flock of birds into flight in the distance.

“Damn, Baker,” Mike laughs too. The crinkle in the corner of his eyes gets her going even more. She nearly tips over as she struggles to catch her breath between peels of laughter, finding herself leaning against Mike’s hot, sweaty body. Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen. She feels giddy.

“Hey, c’mere,” she urges, scooting even closer to Mike as she scrambles for her phone. He gives a half-hearted protest as she finds the best angle for a selfie. It’s hard to see the screen in the bright sunlight. She snaps a few shots of them and then the view.

“Let’s see.” Mike leans even closer as she flips back through the photos. He smells like he does after a workout, a sharp odor that somehow isn’t repulsive to her. Her stomach drops; she can feel his warm breath whisper across his face. “I like this one,” he murmurs as his calloused finger lingers on a shot, maybe a little too close up, of her beaming and him looking at her with nothing short of amazement.

Ginny turns and finds their noses nearly touching. “Mike…”

“Yeah?”

She drops her phone to the dirt. His gaze drops to her lips. Heat curls low in her belly. She is not leaving this moment without kissing him. Not again. She supposes she should take it slow, but she’s eager to beat the inevitable interruption. One quick breath and she tangles her fingers into his beard and pulls him into her, pressing her lips urgently against his like she’s been wanting to do for weeks. Months. _Years_.  

It’s a quick, hard kiss. Surprise and shock roll through her body. They pull back at the same time, checking in. A little nod from Ginny and then Mike’s arms wrap around her body, pulling her close, as she deepens the kiss, tasting salt on his tongue. She supposes they should stop. They should talk. And plan. But a light breeze picks up, cooling the sweat on their skin, and Ginny can’t stop tasting him. Her hands are greedy explorers, mapping the heat and dampness in his hair, down his neck, his shoulders as his touch on her skin heats her from the inside out. Oh, but can Mike Lawson kiss...

When they finally pull back for air, they remain with their foreheads pressed together, fingers curled into clothes.

“This is my new favorite place,” Ginny murmurs, nuzzling her nose against his when he smooths some curls out of her face.

“It’s perfect here,” Mike agrees, his eyes light and teasing. He kisses her gently.

Ginny pulls away with a sigh. “This is going to be complicated. Really complicated.”

Studying the peaks in the distance, Mike takes her hand. “Like I said. Your call, rook.”

Leaning her head on his shoulder, Ginny squeezes his hand. “Let’s just enjoy the view for now.”

 

* * *

 

They return to find the house empty; Livan had texted her that he was going to spend the day shopping. A tidbit she does not share with Mike, predicting the snarky comment he will have in response. Nor does she share the content of the approximately ten texts from Evelyn demanding updates about The Mike Situation.

“Pool?” Mike jerks his head in that direction as Ginny chugs a glass of water.

“You just want me to put on a bikini.”

“Guily as charged,” he shoots her a lavacious look that has Ginny’s insides quaking.

“Last one in's a rotten egg,” she winks as she saunters off to her bedroom to change.

 

* * *

 

Mike can’t take his eyes off of her as she floats in the pool. It’s fair, though, because she’s pretty sure she’s outwardly drooling at the wide expanse of his back on display and how he seems to be finding reasons to flex just for her.

“I don’t think I can promise you that this is my last season.” Mike’s eyes are dark as he leans against the edge of the pool. His gaze tracks her lazy glide through the water.

With a sigh, Ginny moves to rest next to him. She grips the edge of the pool with her fingers, digging her toes into the cement wall as her knees curl into her chest. “I know. And I want you to play as long as you can, too.”

“So we wait two years?” His voice drips in bitterness. He catches that and makes a face. “I’ll wait, Ginny. That’s not the problem. But I need to know--

“I don’t want to wait,” she interrupts, dropping her knees and pulling herself into the wall. Her tone is urgent, angry, and a little bit whiny. “It’s not fair!”

Mike chuckles. His easy smile is a thorn in her side. “No, it’s not. So what? A secret relationship? That doesn’t seem sustainable.”

With a groan, Ginny buries her head in her hands. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” She takes a deep breath. “Can we come up with a plan later? We’re pretty good at that.”

Mike screws his face up. “Procrastinating? Avoiding serious discussions?”

Shaking her head, Ginny splashes water at his dumb expression. “No, idiot. Game plans.”

“Huh.” Mike tilts his head back and strokes his beard. Ginny resists the urge to dunk him. “Yeah. You’re right about that.”

Ginny just stares at him until he finally looks at her. She makes sure the frustration is clear on her face.

“What?”

She tries to be annoyed at his density, but ends up laughing instead. She pushes off the wall and starts to walk away from him.

“You’re really something, Baker.” He splashes water at her back until she turns around. She gives him a look and a nod that’s all challenge. Makes the call. “We’re really doing this then?” A slow, beautiful grin spreads over his face. Ginny can’t help but match it.

“Hell yeah.” And she launches herself at him.

 

* * *

 

“I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.” Mike’s voice is sleep-heavy. His arms pull her tighter into his body. Ginny groans; his skin grazing hers is the best way to wake up.

“We have a game today.”

Mike trails light kisses down her neck. Ginny ghosts her nails down his rib cage, her legs falling open as he lazily thrusts toward her. “We have time.”

“Mmm, okay,” Ginny agrees even though she has no idea what time it is. She nips lightly at his deltoid, soothing the skin with her tongue. Time was lost to them as they’d stumbled from the pool into his bedroom. She’s pretty sure her bikini top is still flung somewhere on the patio. They’d emerged from his bed only twice since then-- once to shower together and another time to fuel up on leftover pizza, standing barely clothed in the kitchen, flirting, hoping Livan wouldn’t choose that moment to appear but also not really caring either way.

“Lawson! Baker! BREAKFAST!”

“Honey, Blip is home,” Mike teases into her skin. Ginny can’t help the laughter that escapes, the dizzy high she’d been on since yesterday’s hike apparently not abating. Mike joins in, too. Ginny wonders if he has the same mental image of their confused friend standing over plates of avocado toast and egg whites, waiting for his usually punctual teammates to emerge from their respective rooms.

Ginny’s stomach rumbles as Mike teases his beard, his glorious beard, over the sensitive skin of her breasts.They chuckle.

“Okay, okay, rookie,” Mike gives her belly a pat and then pushes himself up off the mattress with a groan. Ginny can’t help but pout, wanting nothing more than to see those muscles flexing over her. She tilts her head back in what she hopes is a sexy come-hither look.

Mike shakes his head. “No. _No_. As much as it kills me to say this, Ginny, we really don’t have time.”

With grunt of disapproval, Ginny rolls herself off the bed and considers the mess of clothes and sheets on the floor. “Captain Buzzkill.”

“Hey.” Mike gives her bare ass a light smack. Ginny narrows her eyes at him. “Respect your elders.”

“Ohhh, I think I did that quite well last night, Lawson,” she winks and easily catches the hoodie he tosses her way. She has no actual clothes up in Mike’s room so she supposes Blip and Livan will just have to deal with her modeling Mike’s lucky hoodie.

“We can trade notes later.” Mike pulls a t-shirt over his head, much to her disappointment, and gestures toward the door. “Beauty before age.”

“Seriously?” He’s going to make her go first? “Such a jerk.” Ginny shakes her head and leads the way down into the kitchen.

“You know you love it, Baker.”

She lets out a belly laugh. “You wish, Lawson.”

 

* * *

 

Blip’s mouth hovers open over a bite of food as Ginny enters the kitchen, Mike at her heels. His eyes go comically wide when he registers her appearance. She’s pretty sure her tousled hair and clearly naked under the sweatshirt body (which really isn’t as long as it needs to be) leave no question as to the previous night’s activities between her and Mike. Livan, perched on a stool and digging into an egg scramble, lets out a wolf whistle.

“Don’t say a word,” Ginny warns as she walks past the island and grabs a plate of breakfast. She catches Mike offer a glare of support behind her. She points at Blip. “You have no one to blame but yourself for encouraging this.”

Giving her friend one last pointed look, Ginny continues on her way to her room, needing to shower and change before heading off to the ballpark. She also really needs to call Evelyn before Blip gets to her.

As she shuts the door to her room, she hears Blip break the silence, “Seriously? Do you guys want nothing but to make my life miserable? Come _on_ …”

 

* * *

 

That night, after a long game day and far too many judgmental looks from Blip and leers from Livan, Ginny is happy to find herself back in Mike’s bed, curled into his warm body and staring up at the stars through the skylight above his bed.

 His hands run absently through her hair, playing with her curls and giving her scalp a little massage, which is sinfully relaxing. Ginny presses a kiss into his chest.

“I love this house,” she sighs and snuggles closer to him.

“Yeah,” he snorts. “I figured you would.”

  
  



End file.
